


When Love Arrives

by thiccskeleton



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: As it usually is with most of my fics, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gerry does not know how to accept good things, Hurt/Comfort, I have so many feelings about him I love him sm, I just;;;;, I want him to be happy and loved d a m m i t, M/M, Other, Takes Place During Mag 12 First Aid, or compliments, or people caring about him, readers gender is ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccskeleton/pseuds/thiccskeleton
Summary: “It’s not as bad as it looks." He spoke, throat raw and ragged. He opened his eyes to meet yours, ones that stared back at him with such sympathy he could’ve died right then. He didn’t deserve this worry you wasted on him. He knew that. So, why did it feel just as sick, as it did warm, to know you cared?“Not as bad as it looks?” You scoffed, pulling your hand away from his cheek - much to his dismay. “Gerry, you’re covered in burns.”“It’ll be alright in a few days." He tried to assure you as you took a seat in the chair next to his hospital bed. “Promise.”
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	When Love Arrives

The pain was indescribable.

Every inch of his skin not covered in ink felt raw and hot even a day after he’d gotten the burns. His flesh felt bunched up and wrinkled, sensitive to the touch. It was an agony not many could withstand and it tested even his merit. But he never complained, never made a noise. What good would it do? It wouldn’t erase the pain, wouldn’t change the path he’d been put on from conception. No, it was better to just wait it out. To sleep it off until he recovered. The painkillers certainly helped in that regard - even if getting torched by The Desolation wasn’t like getting burnt by standard fire - and for that he was the least bit grateful.

His world was hazy with the drugs in his system. Not as much as it might’ve been for someone who was normal, but it was enough that he could disregard the doctors and the nurses without much hassle when they came to speak to him. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to talk - well, he didn’t - but it was better that he didn’t. It was better they didn’t know what happened to him or what kind of world they were truly living in.

There was one thing however, that he couldn’t ignore. A sound his mind recognized even through his dampened senses. At first he thought he might’ve been dreaming it up, the ache in his body twisting into a yearning for the person that sound - that voice - belonged to. For them to be at his side, for them to bring the comfort that came with their very presence. The kind of reassurance he could only get from them. But there was no way they could be there, there was no way for them to know.

At least he thought as much. Thought as much until he felt, with a warm clarity, a soft hand brushing affectionately against his cheek, a downtrodden voice mumbling “Oh, Gerry… what am I going to do with you?”

The sadness in their voice squeezed at his chest, just like it always did. They sounded so tired and all he wanted was to reach out and take their hand, to assure them he’d be alright, that they didn’t need to worry so much; and something to that effect did come tumbling out of his mouth, if not more sarcastic than he intended.

“It’s not as bad as it looks." He spoke, throat raw and ragged. He opened his eyes to meet yours, ones that stared back at him with such sympathy he could’ve died right then. He didn’t deserve this worry you wasted on him. He knew that. So, why did it feel just as sick, as it did warm, to know you cared?

“Not as bad as it looks?” You scoffed, pulling your hand away from his cheek - much to his dismay. “Gerry, you’re covered in burns.”

“It’ll be alright in a few days." He tried to assure you as you took a seat in the chair next to his hospital bed. “Promise.”

“Not the point, love." You sighed, sliding your hand into his. “I’ll cut you a break though. I can’t imagine what kind of pain you must be in.”

“It’s not so bad.” He chuckled dryly. “The other guy was worse.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m sure.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before he decided to speak up again.

“How did you know I was here?” He asked.

“Bad dream." You explained. “Saw you getting wheeled in here looking like an overcooked ham and when you didn’t answer your phone the next morning I assumed something must’ve happened.”

“And it did,” you sighed. The pain in your voice made him want to wretch.

“... Sorry.” It was all he could say, his voice soft and low as his eyes traveled down to meet the image of your hand in his. His hand should’ve been empty. You shouldn’t have been here, worrying over him. You should’ve been at home or off getting ready for Christmas. Preparing for that well deserved break you had coming up. Instead you were there, with him, a lost cause if ever there was one. Just like you’d always been. Yet, that selfish part of him needed you there, wanted you to be there.

“It’s… it’s okay, Gerry. It’s not your fault." You assured him, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles, far more tender and sweet than you had any obligation to be. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Thanks, love.” He mumbled, voice still soft, still guilty.

You brought his hand gently to your lips, softly kissing the back of it, igniting in him the memories of the nights you’d spent kissing every bit of him, focusing sometimes pointedly on his tattoos, to his guilty pleasure. He wondered briefly if you’d still kiss him like that after all of this was over, even with all the new scars. But he knew better that scars wouldn’t deter you. They hadn’t thus far, had they?

“At least that pretty face of yours is still intact.” You smiled a bit cheekily, a soft shine showing in those tired, weary eyes of yours.

“Every cloud has a silver lining, yeah?” He replied, the smallest sliver of a smirk creaking onto his face.

“Mm-hmm” You nodded. “Could do with a few more silver linings honestly, but I won’t push it.”

“Probably for the best” He snorted. “Might just invite more storms.”

You huffed gently at that. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

He watched as you considered what you'd planned to say next, eyes darting around the room not so much in unease but in thoughtful significance.

"Any chance they've told you when you'll be able to leave?" You asked, already knowing the answer on some level.

"Not exactly. Haven't really talked to them." Part of that was a lie, considering he'd saved one of the nurses tending to him not but a night prior, from the guy he got rolled in with. Of course, it wasn't like he'd followed up with her after the fact. The less she knew, the better.

"Fair enough, I suppose." You squeezed his hand ever so slightly. "Guess we'll have to have our own little Christmas thing when you get out. If you're up for it."

That ever prominent sting of guilt he felt whenever you wasted your time trying to give him good things burned sharp in his chest. "You really don't have to bother. I'm sure you have other things to be doing."

"I did." Your tone bordered on accusatory without being venomous. "With you, silly boy."

He sighed, ready to throw up his heart if it would suffice to calm the guilt he felt. "Right… sorry."

"It's okay, Gerry."

It wasn't, you both knew it wasn't.

"I just wanna make sure you get your gift and some good food." You smiled, too bright and heavenly for someone like him.

His eyes left yours, mumbling "You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know. I wanted to. You look so happy whenever I give you things. It's adorable." You smirked, challenging his nerves to betray him. For that soft blush to make itself present, and had he not been half out of it he was sure it would've. Or maybe it did regardless, even though he just snorted at you, trying to push it down.

"Sure, tease the guy in the hospital." He joked.

"It's my right as his partner." You giggled, a certain kind of softness forming in your eyes at the words. Softness reserved for him.

"Guess that's fair." He conceded, sharing that same soft expression as he looked at you. "Thank you, really."

You shook your head. "You don't have to thank me."

Except that he did.

You'd been with him for so long, putting up with him ruining plans for the sake of appeasing the woman he called his mother.

Even when you opened your home to him, offered him a way out, you didn't get mad when he didn't take it. You seemed to understand the mental hold she had on him, how she trapped him in her grasp like a fly in a spider's web. Hell, you'd known all of his baggage beforehand - he made sure you knew what you were getting into - and you still chose to be with him.

"Think you deserve it, honestly."

"Well, I appreciate it but I don't do what I do for thanks," you cast him a knowing look. "I do it because I love you, even if you can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"Not sure it's worth it." He snorted. "But I'm… I'm glad you're here." He admitted.

He caught the way your smile creased in sympathy. He wouldn't call it pity. Pity felt like such an ugly word. But he knew you felt bad for the life he'd been handed - you'd told him as much on several different occasions. That you wanted to help him in whatever small way you could.

"Well," you said softly, leaning over with your free hand to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear. "There's so much about you that makes it worth it. You're thoughtful, sweet, talented, probably the smartest person I've met, and you've always kept me safe."

Perhaps it was the result of having never been properly praised by anyone as he was growing up, but Gerard had always had a very adverse reaction to compliments. He felt like he wanted to slide out of his skin when they were presented to him, and especially when you were the one giving them. "How d'you figure that?"

"Because you just are and you just do," you shrugged, leaning over once again to press a kiss to his already burning cheek. "And you're pretty, so there's that." You winked.

Everything inside him burned about twice as hard, and that was an impressive feat when he'd been torched to shit to begin with. "You've just got a fetish for goths, don't you?"

You shrugged, nonplussed, still wearing that teasing smile. "Maybe. But now I've got one and I'm keeping him."

He didn't mind that. Not in the slightest.

"Do I get a say in that?" He asked playfully.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you want one?"

His smirk softened, looking at you with such tender affection that you would've known his answer long before he said anything.

"No. Not really"

You giggled, short and content. "Good"

**____________________________**

Gerry stayed in the hospital for a few more days after that. He probably would've been there longer had he not been so adamant about leaving, but with no foreseeable side effects aside from the obvious scarring, they had no grounds to keep him. So off he went at the earliest convenience - to the one place he could only think to describe as home: your flat.

You'd spent most of Christmas in the hospital with him, sure, but given it was a hospital there was only so much you could do to make the day cheery. So, in place of that, you'd decided the night you had planned could be saved for when he got out. A "belated Christmas" you'd giggled at him, which was far too adorable for words, even if he still felt guilty about ruining the initial day in the first place.

Though, it was hard to feel anything but wonder as he stepped into your flat.

There weren’t many big decorations save for a snowman statue on the kitchen table and the small tree you had set up on the coffee table but in lieu of that your whole flat had been lined with blue and white lights. Strewn intermittently among the cords that connected them were a series of snowflake and icicle ornaments and he had to wonder how long this all must’ve taken you to do.

“Hope it’s not too much,” you smiled sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I had the chance to really do up the place so I thought this year I’d just go for it.”

Gerry nodded slowly, still in awe as he looked about the place, wondering when he had ever done anything good enough to deserve a partner that would let him be a part of such domestic merriment. Suffice it to say, his mother wasn’t exactly big on holidays, and any knowledge of any such customs was gained either from watching TV or when he would people watch to get out of the house. He only ever really started experiencing those customs for himself when you came along. The first time you bought him a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day he almost evaporated on the spot.

“No, no,” he mumbled, still blinking absently at the cozy little space. “It’s… nice, actually.”

When he turned to look at you, gaze finally breaking away from the semblance of childhood normality he’d been so deprived of, he found you looking at him with such a sweet smile he could have fainted from the sheer amount of love that smothered that beating organ in his chest.

You were positively glowing. “Glad you think so.”

Then you turned, shucking off your coat and hanging it up on the back of one of the kitchen chairs before you made your way over to the fridge.

“You can make yourself at home. It’s nothing extravagant but I made us a few things for dinner.”

He really didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

“Sure I can’t be of any help?”

“Nope.” You answered cheerfully. “Just go sit down, rest those wounds of yours.”

And while he would have much rather helped you in the kitchen, anything to repay you even in the slightest way for your kindness, he found himself shuffling awkwardly to the couch at your continued persistence. He watched as you went about your business, reheating the ham and stuffing you had made the night prior, making idle conversation with him before you joined him on the couch with two plates of food.

“Hope it’s alright.” You said, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. “Not much of a cook if I’m honest.” You chuckled softly.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It doesn’t look burnt so that’s a start.” He chuckled back at you.

“Wow, thanks.”

“I’m just saying.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him in return. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” you said, flicking through your saved movies on Netflix. “Since apparently your mom doesn’t let you have any fun I thought we could watch a classic tonight. It’s right up your alley.”

“Oh yeah? Which one is this?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.” You grinned.

“Sounds charming.” Though his tone was rather dry as he said it.

“Oh stop, it’s a kids movie actually. It’s really cute though and all the songs are absolute bops.”

Gerry shrugged at that, more than willing to watch anything you had to show him, truthfully. “I think I could get behind a few bops.”

“Good! Because the opening is the best bop.”

And indeed, as you started up the movie, settling into the couch with your legs crossed, plate of food in your lap: he had to agree that “This is Halloween” was indeed a bop. Everything about it spoke to his goth aesthetic and while it might not have been heavy metal, he could still appreciate a good musical number when he heard it.

Though, he had to admit that he found himself more entertained by your giddiness and childlike innocence as you sang along to the song, recited lines you must have heard a thousand times, pitching your voice a few octaves lower and then a few higher here and there wherever the song called for it. You looked so happy, so in your element it was infectious. He was almost watching you more so than he was the movie most of the time.

At some point however he can see the tiredness start to creep in, the eager energy subsiding and he can see you starting to nod off.

Somewhere halfway through the movie your head had found a home against his shoulder, your empty plate left abandoned on the coffee table as you tried not to drift off, but just to rest your eyes all the same. He can’t see you but he knows you must look absolutely adorable with your sleepy eyelids fluttering as you fought to stay awake.

“Still awake?” He softly called.

“Mm.” Is your mumbled reply. “Kinda…”

He chuckled warmly at that, slowly moving his arm from between the both of you and instead wrapping it around your back, pulling you ever closer into him. The contact and the movement all agitate the burn wounds but quite frankly if The Desolation was going to allow him to live then he was going to enjoy his time with his partner, burns or otherwise. And when you nuzzle gently against him he almost doesn’t feel it at all, instead overcome by the warmth in his chest at how utterly calming and comfortable it is to have you so close.

“You can take a nap if you want.” He suggested.

“You sure?” You mumble once more. “I can stay up if you want…”

“No, get some sleep love. I can enjoy the movie on my own.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” He answered, fingers finding their way into your hair as he absentmindedly played with it.

“Mmm.” You nuzzled into his touch, cuddling ever closer up against him and his heart started doing backflips all over again. “Okay…”

He waited a moment, let you get settled, and then when he heard your breathing start to get heavier he spoke out into the air.

“Hey,___?” He asked.

“Mmm?” You responded, barely awake.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t need to look to see the smile that forms on your lips, he can feel it in the way you shift against him, nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

“Love you too, Gerry.”

And maybe one day, he can stop feeling guilty for being in love.

Maybe one day everything will feel like it does in that exact moment.

Peaceful. Soft. Warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a spoken word poem by Sarah and Phil Kaye.  
> You can watch it here it's beautiful ; n ;  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdJ6aUB2K4g


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